To my surprise, the workday went relatively quickly. I did data entry for most of the morning, then spent the afternoon scheduling interviews with as many minor league hopefuls as I could. Before I knew it, it was time to leave work and go fetch Olive from pre-school.
“She was a perfect angel today,” Ms. Henderson said when I arrived.
I smiled down at Olive and she winked at me, making me laugh.
“Pardon?” Ms. Henderson asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Something got stuck in my throat. And I’m glad to hear that!”
Olive clung to my leg. “Mommy, let’s go,” she whined.
Outside, the weather was freakishly warm for February and I found myself sweating a little under my tunic sweater. I had a strange yearning inside of me – the kind of feeling that didn’t come often these days.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” I told Olive. “Do you feel like ice cream?”
Olive pretended to think it over before nodding.
“Yes,” she said solemnly. “I think that would be quite nice.”
I struggled not to laugh – she was so serious sometimes! Moments like these, everyday moments, were the ones I wished I could share with Benjamin.
But he’s not here, I told myself.
He’s gone.
Most likely, forever.
Olive and I walked the two blocks to the beach. It was the off-season and the beach was empty, save for a few fishermen in rubber overalls with their rods in PVC tubes stuck deep in the sand. Gulls squawked and flew overhead and we watched them for a few minutes. Then, I guided Olive into an ice-cream shop, one of the only places that was open year-round.
We ordered – strawberry-banana for Olive and vanilla-hot sauce for me – and then took our cones outside where Olive flounced over to a bench and sat down, licking away contentedly. The silence was almost unsettling: as a younger toddler, Olive had been a real chatterbox. Now, she was starting to become as quiet and taciturn as her father.
“How was pre-school?” I asked.
Olive didn’t answer – she took a large bite of her ice cream cone, then chewed thoughtfully and turned to me.
“Where’s my dad?” Olive asked suddenly.
I blinked at her. “What, sweetie?”
“My dad,” Olive said. “We have to do family trees ... Ms. Henderson said that I have to have a daddy,” she said. “Where is he?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the weathered wooden bench.
“Your dad loves you very much,” I told her. “But for right now, it’s just the two of us.”
A deep worried crease appeared on Olive’s forehead and she blinked at me.
“But where is he,” she asked persistently. “Why isn’t he here?”
Inwardly, I sighed.
“Honey,” I said. “You have to trust me on this one, okay? Just know that he loves you.”
Olive didn’t look content with my answer and I felt a bubble of unhappiness began to swell inside of me. It was the same answer that I’d given her time and time again, but Olive was growing up. She was four, going on five, and I knew that a vague answer like that one was no longer satisfying her. She was getting to an age where she wouldn’t be able to accept simple explanations for much longer, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Oh, Benjamin, I thought as I stared out at the sun setting low over the ocean. Why did you have to leave me?
2
Benjamin
My petty officer, Barnes, saluted me.
“Ensign Grove,” he said shortly before tapping his heels together and nodding.
“At ease,” I replied.
The two of us climbed into the rental car – a huge, black Jeep – and I turned the key in the ignition.
After almost five years of being stationed on a ship off the coast of Somalia, it felt as surreal as a dream.
I hadn’t planned this.
I’d wanted to come back to Wilmington years ago – that was what I’d been promised, after all. But becoming a SEAL had meant putting my personal life aside and accepting everything that the Navy decided to throw at me.
I only wished that I had known just how much would be thrown.
Barnes and I didn’t talk on the short ride from the regional Wilmington airport into town, where I dropped him off at a bar. As he was climbing out of the Jeep, he gave me a skeptical look.
“Feel like having a drink?”
“No,” I said shortly. “You go ahead.”
For what felt like the first time, Barnes smiled at me.
I didn’t return the grin.
“What?” Barnes asked, his smile fading. “You got shit to do?”
I nodded.
“Like what? Looking up the parents?”
I shook my head. “Enjoy your drink, kid,” I said. Barnes gave me a strange look, then slammed the Jeep’s passenger door shut and headed for a brewery located on the Cape Fear river.
For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I sat in the car, the February sun beating down through the windshield. Wilmington looked both exactly the same and somehow, different. Changed.
It had been almost five years, but I hadn’t expected to feel like a ghost in my own hometown.
I wasn’t thinking of my parents like Barnes had suggested, or even my sister Margot, who was the closest thing to a best friend that I had in the world.
I was thinking of her.
Of Jessie – Jessamine – Rhodes and her megawatt smile. Her dynamite curves, her big flashing brown eyes that spelled trouble and fun at the same time.
The way she’d clung to me when I fucked her, the way she’d moaned when I touched just right.
How we’d plotted to run off to Vegas and tie the knot in one of those cheesy, Elvis-themed chapels before I’d been approached to become a SEAL.
I had to know where she was. If she was still in town, what she was doing.
Technology and social media had changed a lot in five years, but I’d stayed on top of all of it. Working to protect international fishing vessels from Somalian pirates wasn’t the same thing as looking up old friends on Facebook, but I’d gotten the hang of it all the same.
Seeing Jessie’s page had hit me like a punch to the gut – it had made me realize that based on appearances alone, she hadn’t changed at all. Her profile picture, which I’d printed out and tacked over my bunk, had shown her laughing and twirling in a field full of sunflowers. She still had that smile, those curves, that way of flirtatiously looking at the camera like she was looking at an old lover.
In the moment, I hadn’t even stopped to think about who had taken the picture.
I swallowed hard and clenched the wheel before putting the Jeep into gear and pulling away from the downtown strip of bars and restaurants and shops catering to the tourists who wouldn’t be here for another few months. As I drove away from downtown Wilmington, I had only one thought in my mind.
Please, let her remember me.
And please, for the love of god, let her forgive me.
Jessie had never been a very private person – and judging by her Facebook profile, which was completely open to the public, that hadn’t changed. I’d found her address, her phone number, even her place of employment with just a few clicks. At first, I’d debated calling instead of driving over to her house. The last thing I wanted was to seem creepy or untoward.
But there was a chance she wouldn’t pick up. There was a chance that her number had changed, or even that she’d moved away.
Which was why I had to know, now, so I could temper my expectations.
The downtown lights faded behind me as the sun began to set in the sky. It was such a warm day for February that I rolled down the windows of the Jeep and let the sea breeze wash my face and ruffle my hair. Jessie’s address led me to a small, modest apartment complex on the outskirts of town. The yard area was brightly lit and I slowed the Jeep to a crawl as I looked for a parking spot on the side of the road.
It was both crazy and stu
pid, but my heart was thumping harder in that moment than it had in years. Dealing with the threat of lawless Somali pirates was nothing compared to the fear of seeing my ... well, what was Jessie, exactly?
Calling her my “ex-girlfriend” just sounded wrong. Calling her my “old girlfriend” didn’t sound much better – it almost made it seem like she had died.
I felt my stomach twist into knots as I put the rented Jeep into park. With a heavy sigh, I stretched and put my face in my hands.
If I had my way, Jessie would be more than just my girlfriend. She’d be my wife, my soulmate, my forever lover.
But I was the one who had left with barely a word. I hadn’t been able to tell her about my mission – not where I was going, not what I’d be doing, not when I would supposedly be returning. I thought that I’d known what I was getting into when I’d signed up for the SEALs, but now I was starting to question everything.
It’s not too late, I told myself with grim determination. I can still make things right.
No matter how many times I told myself that, though, it never seemed to sink in.
Just as I was pulling the keys out of the ignition, I heard the loud squeal of a child. Something about the sound made me freeze in my tracks and I craned my neck forward, peering out the passenger window of the Jeep.
What I saw made my mouth go dry and my heart stop.
There, on the lawn of the apartment complex, stood Jessie. She looked radiant – as gorgeous and curvy and happy as she ever had.
She wasn’t alone. She was squatting down and smiling as an adorable little girl with a huge mane of dark, curly hair ran around her, laughing and shrieking and waving her arms in the air.
My heart sank.
Clearly, I was too late. Jessie had moved on. She’d gotten married and had a kid, and now, there was no place for me in her world.
With my stomach churning and my heart broken, I jammed the key back into the ignition of the Jeep, brought the vehicle to life, and drove away.
3
Jessie
The sound of a knock on the door made my heart skip a beat.
“You stay here,” I said to Olive. We were sitting on the floor of her bedroom, going through her toy chest and deciding what to keep and what to donate.
Olive pouted at me. “I want to answer the door,” she said.
With some effort, I got to my feet and shook my head.
“It might be one of those scary energy scammer people,” I said, raising my eyebrow at my little girl. “Trust me – you don’t wanna talk to those guys. They’re slick as anything. Even Mommy fell for that once before.”
Olive shrank back and looked down into her lap. “Yes, Mom,” she said, sounding far older than her four years. “I’ll stay here.”
My stomach did a flip as I walked to the door, even though I told myself it couldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. I hadn’t ordered anything from Amazon in the last few days – was there something I’d preordered and then forgotten about?
That wasn’t likely. I made a decent amount at work, but money was never exactly a surplus ... and it wasn’t like Olive was old enough to log into my account and start shopping for herself.
The knock sounded again – insistent and booming, which almost made me wonder if it was a cop. Maybe my car had been hit in the parking lot again: it wouldn’t have been the first time.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t a cop who was standing there.
It was Benjamin, and seeing him made the air fly out of my lungs in a loud gasp.
“Jessie,” he said in a husky voice, getting down to one knee and looking up at me. His big, sapphire-colored eyes touched my heart and even though I had the urge to slap him, I found that I couldn’t move.
He was here.
Really here, in the flesh.
“Ben ...” I trailed off, furiously gnawing my lower lip until the ironlike taste of blood filled my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come back for you,” he growled. When he reached for my hand, I didn’t pull away. Sparks flew between us and before I knew it, he was on his feet, pulling me close into a sweeping hug and kissing me deeply. I felt the kiss – felt his mouth on mine, felt his tongue searching my mouth, apologizing without words for leaving me all on my own.
When I woke up, there were tears on my cheeks and my pillowcase was damp. My room was still dark and I sat up, choking on a sob.
“I hate this,” I said softly.
I’d dreamt about Benjamin, again. But this dream had felt so different than the others. I’d felt his mouth on mine, felt the kiss as if it was really happening. He had felt so real. So warm, so muscular, so strong. And when he’d pulled me into his arms, I’d felt that I’d be safe and comfortable for the rest of my life.
That nothing bad would ever happen, that everything was fine.
That everything would be perfect.
A fresh tear rolled down my cheek and in frustration, I wiped it away on the back of my hand. I didn’t understand it. Why now, of all times, was I dreaming about him so much more frequently than before? Was the universe conspiring to make me miserable?
Or was the universe simply trying to tell me something?
“Yeah, right,” I muttered. Just as I was about to roll out of bed and turn off my alarm before it could start blaring, the door swung open and Olive bounded into my room. She leapt onto my bed and wrapped her tiny, chubby little arms around me.
“Good morning, Mommy,” Olive sang out. She narrowed her eyes and peered at me. “What’s wrong? You’re crying,” she observed, pointing to my swollen face.
“It’s nothing, baby,” I lied. “Just allergies.”
“Allergies,” Olive repeated, trying out the word.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Good thing you’re too little to get them,” I said seriously. “You’ve got a lifetime of fun to look forward to. Your mom here should’ve bought stock in Claritin-D when she had the chance.”
Olive gave me a funny look which was almost enough to jolt me out of the crushing sadness that I felt.
At least I had her. I would have been lost without my daughter – she was the anchor that kept me tethered and grounded to the earth.
“What would you like to do today, sweet one?” I asked. “Want to play with Aunt Henny?”
Olive cocked her head to the side and nodded.
“Let’s get you dressed,” I said. “And then we can go to the grocery store and make a picnic for the beach. How does that sound?”
Olive grinned. She launched herself out of bed and ran around in a frantic circle for a moment before going into her room. I heard her humming under her breath, off-key, as she searched for clothes.
I vowed to keep myself as busy as possible that day. I wouldn’t let myself think about Benjamin and how much he’d hurt me – and how much I still desperately missed him. Even though the dream had been a sad, poignant one, I couldn’t deny the thrilling arousal that had built in my lower belly, and I took a deep breath before climbing out of bed myself and pulling on a pair of stretch-waisted jeggings and a loose, crochet-knit sweater.
By the time Olive and I had gotten our picnic supplies – juice boxes and Lunchables for her, boxed wine and charcuterie for Hen and me – and made it to the beach, it was almost noon. Henny was waiting for us with a big, checkered blanket and an umbrella.
“Can you believe this weather?” Henny asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I told her. “This global warming stuff is too much.”
Henny tilted her face up to the sun and closed her eyes. “I know it’s bad for the environment,” she replied. “But I kind of like it. I hate winter so much.”
“It shouldn’t be almost seventy in February,” I pointed out.
Henny shrugged and gave me a guilty smile. “Yeah, well, maybe not,” she said. “But at least Olive is enjoying herself.”
I peered over the tops of my sunglasses. Olive had kicked off her Frozen Velcro sneakers and was running
around barefoot, narrowly avoiding the surf as it came upon the beach in wave after wave. She giggled and shrieked and chased seagulls, throwing them bits of bread from the baguette we’d brought.
“She is,” I admitted. “That’s nice.”
Henny took a sip of wine and turned to me. She straightened her lanky frame and then folded her long legs into a pretzel shape.
“So,” she said cautiously. “How are you?”
“Who, me?” I asked breezily. “I’m fine. What makes you ask?”
Henny gave me a deadpan look. In the years since college, she’d become more serious, but no less intuitive and kind than she’d always been.
Deep down, I was just happy that we were still friends. Besides my oodles of siblings, it was nice to have someone in my life who had known me for so long.
“Jess,” Henny said. “I can tell when something is up with you. I can always tell.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m totally fine,” I said. “Other than the fact that I woke up super early this morning. And no, surprisingly, Olive didn’t have anything to do with it.” I yawned and pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head so that I could rub my eyes with both fists. “I wish I could sleep in until noon, like we used to do.”
That made Henny laugh. “That was all you,” she teased. “I was always up at eight, even on Saturdays. To the library,” she added in a faux-stuffy voice. Then, she shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if it was really worth it. I mean, did it really matter if I got an A or an A- on a paper?”
I didn’t respond. The memory of my dream about Benjamin had come rushing back and suddenly, I felt faint. I reached for a piece of Manchego from the picnic basket and took a small bite.
Henny stopped laughing. “Jessie, I can tell something’s up,” she said. “You know, you’re about as easy to read as one of Olive’s books.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s nothing, really,” I said, trying to downplay how I really felt. “I had a dream about Benjamin, that’s all.”
Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection Page 62
